


Ariadne's Thread

by Xekstrin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 13:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: Psychological speed chess between two geniuses. Angela Ziegler is the only other person in the world who can match her. And Sombra is drawn closer, despite the warning signs.





	Ariadne's Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my patron and friend, Kylie.

 

Arriving late never meant she didn't give a shit. Ever. It was useful sometimes if other people made that assumption, but the truth was Sombra needed control. Arriving early meant she was put on the defensive, waiting for someone who might not even arrive.

Sombra spent every waking moment of her life obsessively maintaining six different identities, each with their own perfectly plausible history and weaknesses, each of them guarded as carefully as if it were the only way to destroy her. At this point, they were indistinguishable from the truth.

Losing one of them was a heavy blow, but ultimately one she could recover from. Let those who found that facet of the truth follow the red string as long as it would take them. At the end would be a message from her wrapped in a little bow, congratulating them on their dedication. She'd cut it loose, and focus the excess energy on protecting the other tendrils of her web.

Anyway. She was allowed her quirks, and never arriving on time was one of them.

The difference between being late on purpose, and being late the way other people did it, was the amount of diligence applied.

She went over the security footage at the bar for the past year. Waiting a block away, she let the program run in the background as she grabbed a catnap. This was standard protocol for her; she'd done it a million times. Find out who the locals were, find out who'd never been there before. Get all the faces, then see who didn't belong.

With that knowledge in mind, Sombra roused herself and headed inside. As she did, she tapped into the security camera's live feed, matched it with her records, and immediately spotted the agent.

For whatever reason, the feed was grainier than usual. Sombra had to physically go inside to get a good look at her face.

It was a woman, which wasn't too surprising. But she didn't look like a seedy mercenary, or a freelance security agent, or any of the other oddball characters that gravitated towards fringe groups like Overwatch. The stranger was petite and blonde. And exactly Sombra's type, unfortunately.

 _Honeypot_ , Sombra thought grimly. Wouldn't be the first time.

Very few bars had air conditioning in this neighborhood. Instead they had doors and storm-shutter windows wide as barn doors, all of them cracked open to try and admit some kind of breeze. A slow swinging fan collected dust overhead. Bright neon lights advertising cheap beer warmed up the place as surely as the collective body heat of all its patrons.

The blonde didn't pay any attention to her at first, until she slid up next to her at the bar. Sweat plastered her pale bangs to her face, and pressed the frilly hem of her tank to the center of her smooth, white back.

"Hey," she said, and the blonde twitched at the sound of her voice. That was how most people knew her. Others often told her she had a distinct voice, which pleased and vexed her in equal measure. Of course she liked the attention; of course it was bad to be unique. "Can I buy you a drink? Or are you on duty?"

"No, and no." The stranger responded sharply. That threw Sombra off; she'd been expecting something honey-sweet, to match what she thought was obvious bait.

Blinking languidly, Sombra recorded the stranger from every angle, taking a dozen snapshots to be studied later. She'd often longed for a way to install cybernetic cameras into her actual pupils, but for now she had to live with contact lenses. They made her eyes bright gold, too. She chose the inhuman color on purpose; any further oddness could be dismissed as personal taste and not a camera taking candids.

"Suit yourself," Sombra said at last. "I'm having a drink."

The agent sighed under her breath. Something about it felt like a self-reprimand. "...I'll have a drink," the agent muttered. Her accent was faint and hard to place, but something about the softness of her a's was very distracting. "But I'll pay my own tab."

They sat together in silence for the better part of an hour, both of their drinks relatively untouched. Finally the blonde stood up, pulling out cash from her wallet. She set it all down, far too much considering what she ordered. More than any reasonable person carried on them.

Sombra tried and failed hard not to stare at the bills, already hungry to make the exchange and get out of here.

"Do you think that will cover it?" the agent asked.

Sombra set a small microchip on the counter next to the pile of cash. Small enough to fit under her thumbnail. Everything she'd been able to glean about one Gabriel Reyes was there in that little piece of tech. "It sure will, rubita."

The agent's face crinkled in displeasure, and Sombra realized with no small amount of relief that she wasn't being set up, after all. They exchanged what they needed, the agent finished her drink.

"Sombra," she said under her breath. "Please take out your contact lenses and give them to me, [or you won't leave this establishment alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so-WPp5HeQI)."

Despite the heat, she felt a chill roll down her spine, as sure as if the woman had run a block of ice right down it. A million excuses sprang to her lips, the spiderweb arching out in every possible direction.

"Paranoid much?" Sombra said.

The neon purple and blue bar lights danced and refracted when she twisted her shot glass, catching on the clear facets and bouncing off onto the chipped wooden veneer. The agent did not respond, just stared at her with authority and demand. In the end she could only stall so long, and had to give the win to Overwatch. 

Grumbling, Sombra took the contacts out and gave them to the agent. "Whatever I recorded might be backed up somewhere else, you know."

The blonde wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead she held the golden frame on the tip of one finger, analyzing it with detached weariness. "Possibly," she said. "But not this model."

Nothing really set her back for long. Genuinely curious, Sombra smiled as she sipped her own drink. "You into biotech?"

Instead of answering, the woman crushed Sombra's cameras between her thumb and forefinger, taking her time with each. The crumbling remains were dropped into the bottom of her empty glass. Then she pulled a few extra bills out, resting them on top of the stack.

"For the damages," she said, and then left with the information she bought.

Sombra pocketed the money. She twisted in her chair, watching the other woman leave.

_Appearances can be deceiving, I guess._

She laughed to herself, and bought another drink.

She was decidedly less amused when she went home to go over the feed from the bar's security cameras. The glitch that made the agent's face blurry that first time turned out not to be a glitch at all. No matter where she looked, from whatever angle, the agent's faced was blurred out.

Sombra swore, so furiously and so intense that by the end of it she was breathless with rage. "This fucking— she must have had someone outside running interference."

Some programmers kept a rubber duck next to their desk. Sombra usually had a collection of teddy bears, to vent to when something was particularly snarled.

 _Oh, well,_ she tried to console herself, sinking deep into her desk chair. _It's not as though she was anyone important._

* * *

 

 

Three years passed before they met again, in the same country, but not the same town. Sombra hated forming habits. Whenever she had new information, she weighed whether it would be worth it to sell to Overwatch again. They had _so much_ money, and they were independent enough that no allies would help them if Sombra screwed them over...

But if she sold them anything, one of Overwatch's many enemies might view it as her aiding them. That wasn't the kind of heat she enjoyed... but in the end, greed won over sense.

Sombra planned for it to be someone different this time. Maybe Overwatch's golden boy, now that he'd risen from retirement and/or the dead.

But no. The same absolute stunner came out to do Overwatch's dirty work.

 _Who is she?_ Sombra kept wondering. Something about her was so familiar, like a word you couldn't quite translate. Her fingers idly tapped on her lap as she sat on a bench opposite the stranger. The movements could be chalked up to nerves, but each one was really fidgeting and tinkering with a set of screens that only her augmented eyes could see.

Technology finally caught up with her desires, as she finally bit the bullet and designed the enhancements herself. No more contacts.

Sombra tried everything to record an image of the blonde.

Even the ones scanned directly to her nervous system were blurry, out of focus. So in a fit of desperation, she cast a wider net. Of all places, she got a ping on the woman in a local dating app. The name and most of the information was fake, she was sure, but the nationality was listed as Swiss.

_So that's what her accent is!_

It wasn't much, but Sombra left with a small puzzle solved. That was good enough.

With just a picture, Sombra was able to learn more. She made her living gathering information; just a picture could reveal so much. She set it up to compare against everyone in her records, especially Overwatch agents both current and retired.

 _Who is she?_ Sombra searched with feverish intensity, wondering if she could reveal the truth before they made their transaction. _Who is she? A soldier? A spy? Another freak from the moon? How is she running constant interference like this?_

Sombra saw the traces of a life swept clean, of records appearing and then vanishing as soon as eyes fell upon them. This agent did more than scrub her history; she actively worked to keep it hidden.

She wasn't accustomed to leaving empty-handed.

The only thing Sombra was able to snag was a single scan of a newspaper clipping. In Swiss, of course. Then finally, _finally_ , she got a name. Sombra could do so much with a name, like some wicked fairytale creature spinning gold and stealing firstborns.

And the name was...

Ziegler.

Sombra read it again, not believing the caption.

...Ziegler? _Angela_ Ziegler?! There was simply no way. But with Angela's face and now her name, Sombra was able to wrench the truth out of her network of information. Without a doubt, the former head of medicine was the agent Overwatch chose to visit her in person.

Sombra never had a reason to doubt her own eyes before. She studied the pictures and news reports and medical files, seeing that face and those pouty, soft lips and those cobalt blue eyes and recognizing them, but refusing to believe.

With an edge of guilt— an unpracticed emotion — she mined the dating app for Angela's past lovers. She was decidedly steadfast in her preferences, and her account had only been made last month. Interest piqued, Sombra scrolled through the terse, brief private messages in Angela's inbox. 

Not once had Angela met up with a partner for longer than a single evening, and never in the same place. She had no intention of staying in the city for long, and she definitely wasn't looking for a girlfriend, and made no effort to be coy about it.

Sombra scrolled through a list of strange faces, noting with a grin that they all looked fairly similar. Tanned to black skin, dark hair, dark eyes. The doctor had a type.

 _Hey,_ Sombra thought before her common sense caught up with her, _Maybe I have a chance after all._

This time, Angela approached her. She sat down next to Sombra, a healthy distance between them on the park bench.

Leaning closer, she startled Sombra by wrapping an arm around her shoulder. In the perennial, tropical heat of the city, Sombra opted for an outfit that made sense for a runner enjoying the park. Just a scrap of fabric covered her chest and stomach, most of her shoulder and back completely bare, except for the strap of her sports bra.

Against her skin, Angela's hand was frightfully cold. Pulling Sombra close, she spoke as though sharing a secret.

"I know when someone is trying to record me, Sombra," she said.

What an opener.

But not a surprise. Ziegler was a pioneer in biotech. Hell, Sombra had ripped off a few of her Valkyrie designs when she was scrapping together the technology fused to her spine. If anyone was capable of constant, specific, anti-facial recognition tools, it was this woman. If Sombra were a little less scared of her, she might even be fangirling right now.

Because she knew other things about Angela. Darker things. The reasons she guarded her involvement with Overwatch so sharply, as Sombra guarded hers.

That promise to kill her, if she hadn't delivered the contact lenses. Back in the bar, three years ago, with the dead fan doing nothing except circulating thick, wet, muggy air.

That had not been a bluff.

"You value your privacy," Sombra noted, returning the gesture in a friendly side-hug. She'd be damned if she let anyone— even the pretty, deadly doctor— know she was spooked. "I kinda like that in a girl."

Letting her hand drop, Sombra slipped another microchip into Angela's front pocket, her thumb sliding over the smooth cotton of her trousers. She let her hand linger there on Angela's lap, too long to be anything but intentional.

Angela looked puzzled for a moment, scanning her in confusion. Then she looked reluctantly amused, eyes flickering up and down Sombra's frame. As the doctor studied her, Sombra was worried that somehow Angela... _knew_. Even though the device that allowed Sombra to record them right now was of her own invention. The only one in the world, linked to her own private servers....

She felt split apart, a hand reaching inside to pluck the truth out and cradle it with open curiosity.

"How are you recording me?" Angela asked, arrogant and proud the way one can only be after watching someone else fail to solve a very simple puzzle. And the longer Sombra looked at her, the blurrier her face became.

Frustrated, Sombra turned the cameras off. Angela's face returned to her in sharp relief. "How are you blocking it?" she shot back in turn.

"Nanomachines in my bloodstream."

To have the truth given to her so freely felt like bait. Quid quo pro would be fair, but Sombra wasn't interested in playing by someone else's rules. "C'mon."

"It's not my fault if you don't believe me." Shrugging her purse off her shoulder, she handed it over to Sombra like they were old friends. It felt heavy...

Good.

Sombra let go of her to rifle through its contents, though she had no reason to believe Overwatch would stiff her. They were all batshit over there, but they had their own sense of honor. 

"So are you gonna tell me your name this time?" she asked, zipping the purse up and swinging it over one arm.

"I told you all you'll be learning today, though I do have something else I need to bring to your atten..." Angela said, and then sharply looked down on her when Sombra rested a palm on her thigh again. Except this time she didn't even have the excuse of trying to covertly sneak stolen government documents into Angela's pocket. "...What are you doing?"

"Trying to be friends," Sombra said in a sing song tone. "I might not know your name, but I know your type."

Cobalt blue eyes studied her with a fierceness and intensity that should have put her off. But she was too distracted by Angela's soft hand, resting right over hers, rewarding her by inching it further up her thigh. "You've never met a woman like me before."

That was all the warning Sombra got before the blond grasped her index and middle finger in a tight grip. She bent them cruelly, threatening to snap them over the back of Sombra’s palm. 

Her animal instinct screamed for her to struggle and flail, but she knew any more sudden movements would net her nothing but broken fingers. Right now Angela held her at the precipice, with a precision that spoke of lurid experience.

She'd been trained to resist torture. Talon wouldn't let her on board, even part-time, if she hadn't. But torture was torture, and it never got any easier. "I meant," Sombra grated out between clenched teeth, a tight, bared-tooth smile betraying her pain. "Your type... as in the girls you like, dumbass."

Angela leaned a little closer, keeping Sombra's hand pinned on her lap. Despite it all, her insistent silence made Sombra feel like the ball was in her court, now. She was waiting to see Sombra's reaction— she was going to judge her by it, Sombra realized.

"Ggg _god_ ," she groaned. "I like you even _more_ now."

Her frown deepened. "If you touch me again without my permission, I won't be nice." Angela held on for a moment longer. "I know who you are. So behave yourself and listen carefully."

"I'm all ears."

Angela huffed, then released her. Sombra tempted fate by leaving her hand right there on Angela's lap, just long enough to wiggle her fingers to make sure nothing was broken. Then she reclined on the park bench, kicking up her feet so that she was curled up on it with her head resting on the arm.

With great reluctance, Angela resumed where she'd left off before that little battle of the egos. "...Overwatch wants you to join their ranks," she said in a grumble. "We've been keeping tabs on you."

Oh, she knew. Sombra felt every eye on her, surely as a little needle coursing through the flesh of her back. She didn't want to know what a place like Overwatch needed a girl like her for. "Then you ought to know I'm not the type to settle down."

"I do. I want to be here less than you know, but I was outvoted." Hard anger flashed like light over a dark blue ocean, like a camera flares. "So I'm here."

"Well, this is a very generous offer, but I have to saaay..." Flexing her hand again, Sombra kept making fists to try and work out how much it stung. “No, thank you.”

"That's what I figured."

That should have been the end of it.

She didn't know what opinion she had of the doctor. By all accounts Angela was a miracle worker, and her staunch advocacy for peace the real deal. She was stainless, and Overwatch a besmirchment to her name. Sombra didn't know what deals Angela made with herself to sink to Overwatch's level. She had her own deals with the devil to tend to.

A pragmatist, Angela seemed, with dwindling patience for the rules that held her back. Somehow on the straight and narrow and a total hellraiser at the same time.

"Then you won't be seeing me again, Sombra. Do take care of yourself." Angela shook her head, curls of blond hair bouncing slightly with the movement. "It's a dangerous world out there."

So as Angela got up to leave, Sombra pressed it, trying to get a better picture. Just to test her.

"Hey," she called out. "I behaved. Don't I get a reward?"

The idea clicked together, like one-two-three-four, and Sombra felt a low sinking sensation in her belly when Angela spoke again.

"That depends." Her voice was lower now, and Sombra got the distinct impression she was being tested in turn. "How good are you at following instructions without the promise of violence to enforce them?"  
  
"Oh..." Sombra sounded eager even to her own ears. "...Terrible."

"Good."

What she should have done was taken the money and split.  
  
Instead she let Angela take her by the hand.

["Follow me."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgvLDZ7VCb0)

Between the park and the hotel, a million options opened themselves up to her. A dozen decisions, where she stayed with Angela, or where she took a chance to run away. She expected dread to rise up in her at some point, but none did. Instead, her anticipation mounted with every step up to Angela's room, until she was shaking in her own skin.

"Come on," she said in a hushed whisper, one hand on the small of Angela's back, the other rubbing anxious circles on her chest. Her fingers caught against the satin of Angela's pearly white dress shirt, tugging the top buttons open. "Come on. Come on."

"Patience." Angela actually pinched her cheek. The audacity of it just made her laugh.

Once inside there was a struggle for clothes. The room was empty, and an infrared scan showed the rooms next door were empty as well. The one above, too.

Sombra bent down, trying to extricate herself from her tight black leggings. When she stood up straight, Angela cupped her face before getting up on tiptoes to lock her arms around Sombra's neck.

"It's safe." Angela managed to be soothing and alluring at the same time. "I prefer not hurting people when I don't have to."

"Oh man," Sombra said against her neck, cupping both Angela's breasts in her hands. "Now I really, _really_ like you."

Sombra tried to kiss her, but each attempt only met Angela's head turning away. She could take a hint, pressing her lips to Angela's cheek instead. Then a tender kiss to her forehead that left the other woman blinking in surprise.

"My reputation's that bad, huh?" Sombra said, voice muffled by the fabric of her own shirt as Angela let her go long enough to undress.

In the absence of a solid answer, Sombra was left to wonder. She settled for Angela lying beside her on the bed, dress shirt unbuttoned all the way down to her waist. She refused to undress any more than that, and when Sombra tried to help, she got reprimanded.

Angela pulled on Sombra's hands just to push her back on the mattress. "Don't touch without permission," Angela said in a warning.

For the first time since she learned Angela's name, it occurred to Sombra that the doctor might have been a little scared of her, too.

"Don't worry," Sombra said, pillowing her hands behind her head with a smirk. "I won't hurt you."

Angela swallowed a knot in her throat, staring intently at Sombra. "Just make sure this trip was worth my time."

There was only so much she could do without her hands, unless Angela meant to make her beg for every touch. That would be interesting, in its own way. Really, anything Angela did from here on out would be a valuable insight on someone notoriously reclusive— on the only other person in the world who could rival Sombra's bio-engineering. 

Barring some of the Ministers in Oasis, of course. But Sombra wasn't sure any of them really lived up to the hype of their titles.

She hummed approvingly when Angela's curious fingers immediately went for her piercings. They studded her hip bones like metal stars, and the ones on her chest always invited attention. Angela tested her, watching her expression carefully every time she pulled with her teeth, waiting for Sombra to betray any sign of displeasure.

Carding through Angela's hair after a murmured request to touch her, Sombra grinned. "If you like those, you should feel what the one in my tongue can do."

Though her expression remained oddly stoic, a red blush burned a path down the back of Angela's neck. "In time. Perhaps."

She stroked down the length of Sombra's body, lingering right at the juncture between hip and thigh. An experimental pass over dark curls came back shining wet, a firmer touch bringing all that slick heat to the surface. Sombra let out a sigh of relief, hissing in pleasure as Angela did it again.

"And what about this one...?" Angela wondered, her touch even more gentle than before as she drew circles around Sombra's clit piercing, a stud of metal right through the hood.

It was just enough to have Sombra already panting, each word labored. "That... oof." Her toes curled, legs twisting against the sheets as Angela flicked it once. "H-ha... If you only knew."

"I can imagine."

Kissing down Sombra's frame, Angela paused between her legs. She held Sombra open in the vee of her left hand, framing the bright metal stud over her clit. The warmth and sudden pressure of her tongue left Sombra seeing stars, raggedly shouting in protest as she came too soon.

Breathless, she didn't have any time to recover before Angela kissed her clit again. Her soft lips were almost too gentle to feel, Sombra's orgasm still pulsing as Angela worked her up to the next one.

 _So that's how it's gonna be, huh?_ She had just enough coherence to think before Angela pressed two fingers inside her. It was a spark of pleasure bright enough to make her cry, filling her up with no resistance. Bolder now, Angela was less gentle on her piercing, flicking it with her tongue and catching it between her lips in slow, long sucks.

The next orgasm felt ripped from her. The first few were always intense these days, and getting more than one was easier than ever. The piercing had been a great investment; the best money she'd spent on anything except her new eyes.

Still... "I need to catch my breath," Sombra said, wiping a hand down her face, pushing her hair back as she gasped and stared at the ceiling. A wealth of raspy, muttered terms of endearment left her lips in Spanish as the doctor relented, somewhat.

"Take your time." The doctor's lips were curled in amusement, her head propped up in one hand.

After that she was left free to move how she liked, controlling where and how those fingers touched her. Angela kept her wrist and forearm still, watching Sombra fuck herself on them. Rolling slow, Sombra took everything she could, building herself up again.

Angela kept close, pressed up against her. Every so often she could feel the brush of coarse hair, slick with need. She wondered if Angela was waiting for Sombra to ask; she wondered how long this would go on if she didn't ask.

The idea that Angela was fine with just this, with just Sombra taking and taking, made desire spring up in her again. Clutching onto the sheets to avoid touching Angela, Sombra rocked harder onto her. She moaned for more, screamed for more, until Angela gave it to her.

Her thumb pad, soft, rolling gently over it like it was a gift. 

Her trigger finger, rough and marked with callous, pushing perfectly onto that aching spot inside Sombra.

Each surge of pleasure came sedately. A lengthy, swollen pause between each one so she had time to savor it. They reached her head, rippling out, pulsing around her crown like a halo. She pushed herself onto Angela's fingers, slowly, inch by inch until she was pressed right up against that patch of pure nerve endings. Rocking there, jerking roughly, only to pull free just to the tip and do it all again.

When there was nothing left to feel except the burn in her lungs, Sombra gasped in shock at Angela dragging her closer. She straddled Sombra's knee, wet heat seeking friction.

She ground against her bare thigh, taking both Sombra's breasts in her hands to squeeze them until flesh spilled over, too much for those delicate surgeon fingers to grasp. Her teeth joined her hands, sucking and nipping each one until they stood pointed and tender.

Dozens of angry, red-hot bites traveled all over her chest in search of her most sensitive spots. With her mouth on Sombra's breast, Angela reached down to touch her again. She just barely skirted Sombra's clit, edging right on the verge of pain. Helplessly wet, she clenched around nothing as Angela tenderly stroked her entrance, promising to be filled, yet never delivering satisfaction. Sombra came on the frustration of that alone, a pique of fury burning past whatever inhibitions she had left.

Angela was so wet, losing control of her volume as her movements grew more desperate. Sombra heard her, a helpless, breathy whimper with every thrust.

"Let me use my mouth," Sombra said, twisting underneath her, faintly aware she was begging, moaning in despair. "Let me use my hands!"

Angela shushed her, lifting up just to grasp her by the head. Gently, with a low warning, she kneeled over her mouth. Sombra could do so much more now, more focus and pressure where she was needed. The intensity and angle were out of her hands. All Sombra had to do was work and trust Angela would know best how to twist pleasure from Sombra's mouth.

A shocked growl left her lips. "Your tongue..."

 _Told you so._ She'd be smug if she weren't in such bliss, suffocating in heat and sex. Her nose brushed against dark blonde curls, the tip of her tongue dipping directly into molten heat. Above her, Angela bit back a shout, coming in a sudden burst of pleasure and wetness, gushing and pulsing around Sombra's tongue.

Sombra would have been content to stay there for the rest of the day, eagerly lapping up what was given to her. But Angela withdrew, taking that heat with her and leaving Sombra feeling drunk, arousal smeared on her chin.

Then she started getting dressed.

 _Damn._ Sombra’s eyes followed her as she moved across the room, finding her clothes where they’d been discarded at the doorway. _Ice cold._

"I didn't even show you what my piercing can actually do," Sombra said, darkly amused at how that made Angela pause. 

She clicked the stud against her teeth, winking at Angela, who turned red again.

The top button on Angela’s shirt was missing. She left it open, uncaring, the hollow of her throat bare. A mess of bruises dotted her pale skin, all courtesy of Sombra's teeth.  "Then I'm afraid I'll just have to do without."

“Aw,” Sombra said. “Your loss, Angela.”

She took a great deal of pleasure in watching Angela shiver, a stutter in her movements. Sombra knew who she was, and now Angela knew she knew.

The playing field was even again, as even as it could ever be.

So Sombra relaxed, as much as she could around a stranger, at least. Still in a haze, with no desire to do anything but sleep, Sombra watched Angela with bizarre fascination. "You're making me feel like I have no stamina," she mused, watching her buzz around the room.

"I have places to be, unfortunately. But the room is yours until tomorrow, if you desire.

With her weekend bag slung over one shoulder, Angela stood next to her. She leaned closer, like she wanted to lie down herself, fighting against the urge to spread herself all over the mattress and rest.

Instead she took Sombra's face in her hand again, a fond smile on her lips.

"Good luck, Sombra. I really hope I'm wrong about you."

She tilted Sombra's head back, kissing her gently on the lips. It was the first time she'd done so, and as she withdrew Angela's tongue flicked out to taste herself on Sombra's mouth. Stunned into silence, Sombra watched her leave. Then she blinked her infrared back on, following her heat signature until it blended into the world outside.

Sombra left shortly after that, but not before checking all the money and the purse for any tracking devices.

One could never be too careful.

 

* * *

 

The next morning she saw she hadn't escaped unscathed. Angela left a wreath of bruises over her chest and neck, muted watercolor purple and blue, like flowers with pale green stalks. She wanted to pluck out every one, and hide them between the pages of an old book. 

Sombra fled the city as soon as she could, itchy after spending only a week there. She returned to one of her homes, venturing out every other day to make sure she never stay rooted to one place for too long.

And that should have been the end of it.

But she wanted to know what plans Overwatch had for her— and why Angela was so determined to keep her away. 

Because, as Sombra slowly realized, Angela might very well have fucked her just to ensure she’d never join Overwatch. Obviously Angela was powerful enough to have some idea of her pattern of behaviors. She must know Sombra avoided past lovers like the plague. 

As fun as that day was, Sombra grew heated over the idea that it was being used like garlic to ward away a vampire.

What was Angela hiding?

Months later, Sombra was plagued with even more questions.

 _What is Angela hiding?_ She fumed, looking through files and data, digging for a backdoor into Overwatch's systems. _What is she hiding from me, damn it? Why doesn't she want me at Overwatch, because I'm a rival? I'll steal her plans?_

Sombra took a moment to sit back in her chair, reeling at the revelation.

_Damn it, that's a great idea. What am I doing, looking a gift horse in the mouth? They were all but offering me a chance to carve my own back door and I blew it!_

"What is that witch hiding?" Sombra said to her teddy bear, growling at the knowledge that there was something she overlooked. "Fuck it," she said, to a different bear. One who didn't have bullet holes in him. "Let's just see if the offer's still open."

 

* * *

 

The way she entered was, perhaps, not the most legal method. But she wanted to see Angela's face first, wanted her to know that her attempts to dissuade Sombra from joining had been foiled.

She took her chance the next time there was a lull in the doctor's activity. Angela locked the door to her office, reclining in her chair with her cellphone on her lap.

That's when Sombra shut it off with a spark, along with every other camera in the room. Angela twitched, startled as she tried to get her phone working again, to no avail. She flicked the lamp on her desk, clicking fruitlessly on and off in the dark.

With a hum of fading power, Sombra uncloaked herself and stood in front of Angela's desk with a smirk.

"Happy to see me?" she asked.

She expected some tension, a satisfying thrill of fear. But in fact, Angela didn't look surprised to see her at all, which rankled her. Instead she just smiled, slow and gentle and completely unlike the woman Sombra had met out in some hole in the wall bar.

"So you're coming to join us after all, Sombra?"

Angela extended one hand, just enough so that Sombra instinctively stepped closer.

In a flash, Sombra remembered what she first thought when she saw Angela:

[Bait.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9w4JFaZydc)

She wondered again, briefly, if her initial assumption hadn't been correct. But it was too late to turn back now.

Reaching out, she clapped her palm against Angela's in a solid handshake, meeting her smile with a grin.

"For now," Sombra said, "Until something better comes along."

And she meant it.


End file.
